


smoke break.

by orinscrivello



Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: F/M, depends how well you take it, im so sorry i cannot keep my hands off the two of them, no beta we get apotheosized like men, this may or may not continue into something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:55:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28544406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orinscrivello/pseuds/orinscrivello
Summary: charlotte never remembers her lighter.
Relationships: Charlotte/Ted Spankoffski
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	smoke break.

“Ted? What are you doing here?”

Charlotte turned to face the man coming out of CCRP’s back door, who was absentmindedly lighting a cigarette and striding, unfaltered by her words, toward her. They were behind the office building CCRP was in, leaning against this little railing that separated the back door of the building from the parking lot and the woods beyond. He took a long drag on his cigarette before speaking to her. She was holding an unlit cigarette, hands shaking already, a bit nervous about the whole ordeal.

“You’ve been comin’ out here every day for a smoke the past six years you’ve worked here,” Ted mused, glancing her direction from where he was leaning on the railing. Dark brown eyes met blue ones. Charlotte faltered. He continued. “Thought I might as well follow you this time. Have a smoke myself.”

She blinked, almost surprised at the sudden company. 

“Oh. Oh, sure. Yeah. Of course.” Charlotte let out this little laugh that was half-forced, and then turned back to her cigarette, placing it between her lips before realizing she’d left her lighter in her desk.

“I—”

Ted stood and cut her off. “Here.” He leaned toward her, using his own to light her cigarette. She froze, a bit surprised at the gesture. He closed the lighter and jammed it in his pocket, looking out across the parking lot.

“I’ve worked here forever,” he started, leaning forward. “Wouldn’t trade that shit for the world. But, y’know. It gets boring. Don’t get me wrong, I like boring—boring is casual. Nice. Gets exhausting though.”

Charlotte nodded, attempting to keep up with his spiel. Ted talked with the confidence of a person who was either fully unaware he was saying absolutely nothing, or just didn’t care. She exhaled smoke.

“That’s why,” he continued, eyes darting over the line of trees from the woods behind the parking lot, “that’s why I’m out here. Only so long I can look at you under the lights in there. Get you some natural lighting.”

Charlotte blanched. It hadn’t been sunny in Hatchetfield in years. The sky had always remained overcast when it wasn’t snowing or raining. Natural lighting wasn’t any different out here, where they barely made shadows on the ground. Not that Charlotte really minded. 

Was he _flirting_ with her? It made sense, for all she knew about Ted (which wasn’t much). He had hit on Melissa, who had reported him to Davidson, and hit on Bill’s ex-wife (then wife) at an office holiday party a few years back. Maybe that was what took his wife over the edge. Ted’s drunken pick-up lines after he’d spiked the eggnog. 

Charlotte had never taken much interest in Ted, though. He had never really made her _uncomfortable_ or anything, but she had never really payed attention to him. She had other things to occupy her mind: _Sam_ things, house things. Work things. Her and Paul had become good friends over the years, so for a moment she pondered why Ted hadn’t also taken that route. 

Then she glanced at Ted. He didn’t make friends. Not like she did, not like Paul did, though Ted seemed to have himself convinced he and the man were buddies.

“I— I have a husband.” That was her reply. Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest, as if she was protecting herself.

“Oh, I know.” Ted took a long drag from his cigarette. He spoke like he’d pondered that before, like he was almost annoyed about it—but that he’d _thought_ of it before. At least a few times. She shifted. He glanced at her again. “God, I know. Sam, right? You talk to him all the time.” Ted offered her this gross little smile. “Seems like a nice guy. Real family man.” He glanced at the cigarette, and then tossed it onto the ground and crushed it with the heel of his worn, scuffed brown loafers. He hesitated for a second, and then took the lighter from his pocket and pressed it into her palm. “You’ll need this.” He turned and headed back for the door, whistling a terribly out-of-tune rendition of the “Star Spangled Banner.”

Charlotte stared at the lighter, and then turned to say something (not that she’d had anything planned to say), but the door was already closing.

She blinked, and then stared at her hands, at her cigarette, and then at the door again. 

_What?_


End file.
